Two of my favorite blogs are written by fathers, who mainly write about their experiences with their children. You can find them here:
As I read their blogs, I'm oft reminded of experiences with my own Dad.
I was four years old when my parents decided to take the family to San Francisco for a little vacation. I was tiny, so my bed in the hotel room was the bottom dresser drawer which had been pulled out onto the floor. I remember a lot from that trip. Dad convinced a taxi driver to go up and down a few of San Francisco's largest hills to give me a thrill. There was a woman on a street corner selling flowers, and Dad bought a red carnation for me. It was the first time anyone ever bought me a flower, and I felt like a grown up lady. We went to dinner on the wharf, and since Mom and I were not fish eaters, we had Veal Parmesan (which I love to this day).
Dad often danced with his children in the aisles of grocery stores. It was a little game that he played to amuse us--and he always succeeded. He also loved to take his children one at a time to Uncle John's Pancake House for breakfast. He would let us order anything we wanted, and my favorite was pancakes with boysenberry syrup and a chocolate milkshake.
Dad often took me to breakfast at the garbage dump. He would get up early on a Saturday or Sunday morning, pack a sandwich and a banana for me with a thermos full of milk, and while he was unloading the garbage, I would have breakfast in the truck and watch the "garbage dump flies" (seagulls).
Dad loved to work in his yard! He was so patient with me as I tried to "help" him. I'm sure he could have done things much faster if I'd gone in the house and left him alone, but he was ever kind about my attempts at helping.
I turned sweet 16. Dad took me to lunch, and I was introduced to my first Monte Cristo. He bought me a souvenir at the register when we left (which I still have). It is the Christmas story in a miniature book (maybe 2" x 2 "). I felt like a princess.
Dad was a salesman who worked on commission only, and sometimes it was difficult for him to stay motivated. When I was about 17, I bought a stereo from my earnings working at a local furniture store. My younger sister and I would blast 76 Trombones from "The Music Man" first thing in the morning. Dad would march around the living room with us and get his "motivation" for the day to go out and sell life and health insurance. No matter how bad things looked, Dad was always willing to march and laugh with us before he went out the door.
Dad often had appointments in the evening which took him away from the family. He didn't like the time away. He also didn't like to eat alone. If he missed dinner with the family, he would often come in late, grab one of his kids, and we would go with him to a restaurant to eat. I loved that time alone with him. He would listen intently to gibberish I had on my mind. I'm sure there were times when he wanted to shut me up--but he never did.
I have too many memories for this blog post. So to my Dad bloggers, I'd just like to say thanks. Thanks for being Dads. Thanks for being so willing to share your Dad experiences with the rest of us. Thanks for stirring up memories of my own childhood experiences with my Dad, who passed away 25 years ago. I'd like you to know that what you do is really worth it.